


Flush Theory

by MidwesternDuchess



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, I give Sombra a name just for convenience's sake, just trying to shake up the way I write Sombra, lmao little heavy handed on the analogies huh Duch?, quick little thing based on a comic, will talon every steal the gauntlet? probs not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidwesternDuchess/pseuds/MidwesternDuchess
Summary: “I know what it means to be on fire and not emit any light.” -Eliel Vera(In which a shadow confronts history, and the truth bleeds and bleeds.)





	

Reaper won't stop staring at her.

Sombra can feel his eyes—fuck that mask, it doesn't hide anything, not from her—like a pair of live coals, or cursed gems. Hot and bright and radiating a kind of intensity she's not accustomed to receiving. She's the _shadow_. She lives under the radar—off the grid. She doesn't like being caught in the crosshairs like this.

Still, she maintains her air of arrogance and sardonic self-assurance. Her spine is straight as she stands at the computer, typing in commands, gaze darting between the various holo-maps she calls up and dismisses.

"Sombra."

"Little busy, _jefe,"_ she returns, not even sparing him a glance. "Go find another house to haunt."

He's not deterred by her temper.

He's _dead_. He's not really deterred by a whole lot.

"Sombra, what's the matter with you?" Reaper's voice is a kind of rough smoke—coarse and fleeting. It swirls around her head, chafes against her thoughts.

_"_ _Nothing,"_ she snaps back, because _yes_ Sombra, defensiveness has _always_ been _such_ a successful deterrent. She punches in the next round of codes a little more forcefully than strictly necessary, and one of her clawed fingers actually passes through the hologram at her imbalance.

She grits her teeth, glaring at the pixels that float unbound around her hand—screen fractured at her imprecise touch—before flicking her fingers out swiftly reassembling the setup.

Reaper's gaze is heavy across her shoulders—any closer to her throat and she thinks she might choke under his stare.

"Sombra—"

_"_ _Vete a la chingada,"_ she bites out, dully cheered that there's no language barrier to keep the wraith from knowing the exact wording of her dissent. "If you want my help—and trust me, you do—then keep your thoughts to _yourself."_

Silence.

Sombra considers risking a glance over her shoulder to see what sort of body language Reaper's oozing this time, but decides against it.

"Most of the alarms are offline," she announces after a moment, still not sparing him a look.

_"_ _Most?"_ Reaper drawls back.

Sombra waves a hand impatiently. "Yes, _most,"_ she returns irritably. "If you want me to dismantle every alarm in the _Overwatch Museum_ we'll be here for hours. Just don't break a damn window or anything and we'll be fine."

Reaper grunts noncommittally at that, but Sombra ignores him, dismissing her holographic setup with a sharp gesture.

The screens fade, and so does the artificial glow that'd illuminated Sombra's face. She almost misses the face tattoo she'd sported when she ran with Los Muertos. Anything to give her more cover.

Reaper gives her another long look that she ignores, busing herself with her translocater until he finally drops his physical form and vanishes into the night.

Sombra steadies herself with a breath.

_Go in. Get the gauntlet. Leave._

Her thermoptic camo descends upon her form like rain, swallowing up all signs of her being as she gives chase to Overwatch's ghost.

The museum is eerie in its emptiness, but Sombra has been alone too long to dislike the feeling of foreboding that comes with it. She trails behind Reaper as he approaches the case containing Doomfist's gauntlet, glancing around—

"Open the case," Reaper hisses at her from across the museum floor, and Sombra snaps her gaze to his, blinking as she realizes she must have lost concentration.

She makes to stride over to where he is—more than happy to open the damn fucking case if that's all that's keeping them here—when her motion triggers one of the pedestals to her right, and Sombra gasps as the dark room is suddenly lit up—

"It's just a projection," Reaper mutters.

"Brilliant," Sombra deadpans, trying to pull snark over the shaking of her voice. "Really. Why even bring me? A _projection_. How advanced—"

"Shut up," Reaper hisses at her, and she can feel the flash of his eyes beneath his mask.

Sombra gives him a dark look before turning to face the projection head-on.

The hologram of Strike Commander Jack Morrison stares down at her.

It isn't until she tastes the rust she realizes she's bitten her tongue hard enough to bleed.

"Sombra," Reaper growls. "What are you—?"

Something dies in the young woman's gaze—a supernova swallows the stars in her eyes—and she reaches for her sidearm—

Reaper's shotguns are out in the time it takes to blink, but Sombra didn't fuse herself with technology—didn't become her craft itself—to be outdrawn by anyone. Her aim settles on the head of the hologram, Jack Morrison's projection—a ghost drifting out of Sombra's nightmares to haunt her waking hours—speaks earnestly to her, programmed hand extending out, entreating her—

_"_ _Commander."_ Carolina's ears had perked up at the sound, barely heard over the pounding of her heart. Soldiers. They aren't alone, someone's here, they can get help—

_"_ _The town is gone. Should we search the perimeter?"_

_Gone?_ An unsteady gasp rattled its way out of Carolina's chest, and she'd clutched one hand—darkened with ash and soot and blood—to her chest, leaving a handprint behind as she gribbed the fabric tightly, eyes widening with fear.

_The town isn't_ _**gone** _ _. It_ _**can't** _ _be gone. She's still_ _**here—** _

She'd scrambled to her feet then—kicking confetti and shrapnel out of the way as she'd thrown herself forward towards the voice, determined to prove to them that her town— _Dorado_ —was not gone.

_She_ was not gone.

She'd caught the pillar that had once supported a great mansion—she and Mama had often played pretend, acting as though _they_ were the ones who lived in such a house—but was now broken and jagged, supporting nothing but the sky and one exhausted girl choking on her own breath as she'd tried to yell for help—

A man eased into her line of sight—tall and broad and blonde. Her heart had swelled from within her fractured ribs.

_Jack Morrison._

He'll save her. He'll save her town. She's _seen_ the posters, she _knows_ he can do it, all she has to do is make him _look_ at her and _everything_ will be—

_"_ _No."_

Carolina's heartbeat had tripped over itself as all of her blood drained from her face. Her legs couldn't hold her up anymore. She'd fallen, sinking down slowly beside the pillar, gripping the ruined stonework like she'd been lost at sea, the bodies of her friends and families and neighbors trying to wash her away—

_"_ _We're moving out."_

"Sombra!" Reaper reaches out with a clawed hand, but she's elsewhere entirely when she pulls the trigger and empties a round into the hologram's head.

They pass through soundlessly, not even disrupting the perfectly constructed projection. Her bullets shatter the window across the room, and Reaper lets out a hiss of profanity as a new set of alarms start to wail.

"Sombra, we have to go!" Reaper shouts, but the hacker is rooted to the spot, staring up at the projection with a hate so unbearable it makes her bones _shake—_

"You let it _burn!"_ Sombra shouts. "My city— _Dorado, mi hogar_ —we _needed_ you and you just _left!"_

Tears sting at her eyes—the flaring red light of the alarms catches the shine. She throws out a hand towards the base of the hologram, preparing to bestow a crippling virus when something takes hold of her arm and she gasps as she's yanked away—

"You think you're the only one with unfinished business?"

Sombra always wondered what Reaper's voice might have sounded like before he was dead. People with beating hearts and whole souls don't sound like hunger and rage.

She drops her hand, gazing up into the mask of Reaper—both of them still awash in the glow of Morrison's hologram.

A moment ticks by. Then another.

Sombra grits her teeth before throwing a hand down to vanish with the aid of her thermoptic camo. Reaper is gone in a swirl of smoke and shadow, shooting ahead towards the exit while she sprints after him.

Strike Commander Jack Morrison stays behind, hand extended to an empty room.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey kids! I got invited to an event back home last-minute so I won’t be able to write this weekend like I was planning to, but here’s a little something to hopefully tide you over!
> 
> A lot of people were requesting Sombra for the character studies, and I’ve had [this very cool comic](http://nikanono.tumblr.com/post/153546383775/based-of-a-thing-i-found-disclaimer-i-cant-find) by [@nikanono](http://nikanono.tumblr.com/) on the brain for a while, so I whipped up something about it! I gave her a real name just for fun (past Sombra wouldn’t call herself as such, right?) and Carolina is nice and is the name of her voice actress, so I just grabbed it. It’s not canon at all lmao.
> 
> I feel like I’m always writing clever, conniving, scheming Sombra which is fun and great because she is all of those things, but I wanted to shake things up and try writing a different side of her. Hope I did okay!
> 
> You can still keep sending me Overwatch prompts if you want! [Here's my thread about them if you missed any!](https://twitter.com/reduxroyal/status/849782860500414469)
> 
> _Like this piece? Here’s my billboard!_
> 
> **[MORE OVERWATCH WRITING](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MidwesternDuchess/works?fandom_id=3406514) **
> 
> **[MAIN/PERSONAL BLOG](http://reduxroyal.tumblr.com/) **
> 
> **[WRITING DUMP](http://dominodebt.tumblr.com/) **
> 
> **[TWITTER](https://twitter.com/reduxroyal) **
> 
> ~~I was trying to do something stupid and clever with the title but it didn’t work out just add it to the pile of dumb fucking titles I slap onto my works and let’s all move on please and thank you~~


End file.
